Paper Cranes
by Novoux
Summary: Happy birthday, Shizu-chan. Don't try to crush what you're holding. Shizaya.


Birthdays aren't so much a big deal as they are sitting around for another year pretending not to care when Kasuka doesn't like to celebrate and Shizuo doesn't like to reassure himself he's been alive for another year, influencing emotional burden on him. Slowly over the years of growing up they move away from past transgressions, moving as adults into separating directions and the tradition of birthdays comes as simple gifts for each other. Kasuka mainly gives him rent money and birthday cards, signed by himself and an outfit or two for the day that Shizuo starts to learn how to celebrate with others. In return for a happy occasion of Tom teaching him that birthdays are okay and going out to eat with a small celebration every year, Shizuo likes to give what he can to express that he's grateful for his brother. For his last birthday Kasuka gives the gift of a muttering informant, angry and Shizuo's furious for even seeing the stupid flea's face when he's alone at his door. Kasuka says he can't make it the day Izaya shows up out of the blue, bearing a gift and muttering something which later becomes Shizuo finding out about a deal with information.

About _himself._ By his own little brother making a contract with Izaya to send him a birthday gift and card with a white box of something that he holds in his white knuckle grasp. He looks so angry like a wet cat and when realizing it's raining in January Shizuo has the decency to invite him him, forcing Izaya to come to the realization he isn't so bad as to be a monster. It's only because of the stupid card Kasuka sends with, a note telling him to not kill Izaya just yet and the careful considerate writing of his brother he can't just ignore. With sharper eyes that flash danger signs—don't touch—Shizuo takes the gifts from Izaya, bewildered and anger tucking in guilt and confusion when the flea stands around, not bothering to come in any further than the doorway. Reading the rest of the card proves why, setting the box of what are cookies on the table without Izaya's filthy fingers on them and still wondering what Kasuka has been blackmailed with.

But he hasn't. It's Izaya—how the fuck does this happen—who looks grumpy and dripping wet before Shizuo finally reads over the cards, saying birthday wishes and the note not to kill Izaya, asking for Shizuo to let Izaya give him another note. And then looking back up at the flea, rearing for an explanation he questions Kasuka's penned words aloud, demanding to know what Izaya's been doing talking to his brother before the stupid flea bites his lips pulling into a snarl. He forces his hand into his coat pocket, Shizuo eying the bulge of the knife there carefully and muscles tensing before Izaya procures a white piece of paper, folded into an origami crane. At this point the flea whines to leave already, not bothering with wanting to know what it says on the card but without even speaking Shizuo calms himself for a moment, noticing that Izaya _is _bothered by the contents and already confused so far Shizuo doesn't question.

_Nii-san, the reason why Izaya is at your door on your birthday is because he asked for information about you. I made a deal with him in exchange—he tells you his feelings for what you feel for him._

_Kasuka (Please, try not to kill him yet.)_

Which leaves to a burning face on maybe his or flea's—Izaya's confusion twisting in his gut, angry seething surprise of forced choking of the throat when he unfolds a paper crane's wing and there is the note stretching throughout the entire crane. Still damp with Izaya's wet fingers, at least he can insist for Izaya to take a towel and dry off, wanting a full explanation and _don't_ track water in his apartment—shitty apartment, Izaya amends, and Shizuo has to read the card to not break his dining table. It takes another ten minutes of utter silence, something they've never heard of when in the same room and Izaya borrowing one of Shizuo's towels with a cringe and setting to drying his hair while his coat is in the dryer.

So, explain then. The note, the words, what the hell is going on here. Izaya doesn't look as smug now when confronted in the beast's den, loudly voicing the opinion that Shizu-chan should kindly let him go now and heads for the door—no. He wants an explanation, he's getting one. Sit back down, grasp a tiny wrist and make demands like a monster is supposed to do, not letting go until they're on the couch and Izaya is struggling to get away from the bruises forming on his arm. The entire time he's punching back barbs in Shizuo's demeanor trying to get away, denying everything written in proof in black characters on a birthday card. Which takes an almost round of an argument before he wrenches his wrist free from Shizuo, rolling the joint when the ache starts to hurt with the increased blood flow. Shizuo doesn't recognize his own strength and maybe not as much—when Izaya is the one he hurts accidentally on purpose.

This time it's not the physical injury. Staring wide-eyed, realizing the sting in his own eyes too late before Shizuo sees and by the time he does it's rubbing at his face as if scratching at the itch from wet hair on his face and Shizuo doesn't know what to do. Awkwardly he offers silence, staring like a fool to see what's going on and why the hell this is happening now of all times with folding the paper crane back tucking Kasuka's note back inside as if it's easy to go back from where they're going now. It's the end of a certain time period and Izaya looks bitter and uneasy, admitting after more glaring that today isn't his today—it's Shizuo's. Which is why it's harder to come back from empty chests aching numb and solitude spent in raindrops all the way to Shizuo's apartment contemplating never showing him the note and drop and run. But Kasuka—he knows too much for his own good. A monster, he is. Worse than Shizuo for admitting it and then pretending to care (can't fool a godly beast such as he, never) that Izaya is supposed to not have these things weighing in his body like stones tied to his fingers.

Today isn't a good day, then. That's okay as long as Izaya can still laugh and joke and pretend, Shizuo too stupid for this does he _have _to spell this out? Take a couple barbs, make insults and get Shizuo—angry why isn't he angry yet—and then finally in a fit of tempest rage boiling over he snarls that perhaps the reason why he makes the damn deal is because Kasuka knows (everything) Izaya hates to feel. Hates heavy weights and ugly smiles not real painted on for the purpose if he can catch Shizuo's attention then it's enough for a couple minutes of standing in the shade afterward. Hide from the blinding light of cracking his ribs open one by one to pull a simple confession, dangle it from his lips that he...he can't...

He can't say it. Bitterly with gentle fingers, unlike the flea, he unfolds the crane, taking it carefully as to not touch the skin of a monster and unfolds one area—the breast of the bird. Lets Shizuo read it and just as quickly as Shizuo finishes he's heading for the door again without his jacket but this time Shizuo doesn't stop him. The question he asks does, freezing in his tracks when the heavy words are changing the score set oh so comfortably between nothingness and sour hatred rotting teeth and minds for _feeling _things a god isn't meant to—nevermind.

_Is this true?_ he asks, never wanting to doubt his brother but this isn't his handwriting—it's thin and wiry like Izaya is when grabbing for the doorknob and not caring if it's raining outside and dark enough for streetlights to be another hazy light source.

The note on the inside reads the same way it stings like a flea bite. Too quick and Izaya's out the door, darting down the street soaking wet and the throbs exist in tiny pangs from footsteps slipping on asphalt reflecting in the same dim glow of orange-yellow lights. His fingers start to sting with some unknown ache of freezing over hot ice and back again the origami drops from his hands to the sofa.

_Why you, Shizu-chan._ It reads. And why him, he asks, indeed.

It takes the longest time to give his jacket back, and he takes a kiss instead from four months of not seeing the goddamn flea and sick and tired of the swirling bullshit in his head and he can't tell Kasuka why there hasn't been much of anything besides sleepless nights and why the hell does he have to tell the flea things only brothers keep between them. Kasuka says it's necessary for them to sort themselves out because they read like magazine pages stuck together. It shouldn't have to take months of courage to see the stupid flea again and maybe he overreacts when he pulls Izaya's grip on the jacket into him and they collide like cars.

Izaya's eyes are the widest he's ever seen before they try to fade into a neutral expression of disgust. Shizuo lets him be for a minute, but doesn't care people are looking when he can easily send them off.

At last, Izaya grasps the hand brushing against his.

Happy birthday to you, too.

* * *

_Thank you for enjoying my works.** Happy birthday, Shizuo.**_


End file.
